December 18, 2008
By Jerika Murphy, Columbia, MO

Chances come and go, but some are more important than others. Many like, getting the very first chance to meet your mom, or maybe your grandpa, maybe even a long lost cousin. These are significant but none as significant as mine. It was about 9 years ago when for the very first time I got to meet my brother. It was a magical and depressing situation for me from the first minute to the very last second.

Previously my mother had a relationship with a lawyer and had a child. They both thought they were too young, so my brother at the age of 8 and a half months was put up for adoption. It was then that he was adopted by an old couple who had also had children young but never gave up. After my mother had departed from my brothers father she had met my father. They became married and decided to also have a child. It was about 3 years after my brother was born that I was born.

After that my brother had decided to contact my mother. At first my mother was in denial of my brother and didn’t believe it was him and after about 30 minutes of talking to him she then decided it was ok. Tears rolled down her face when she then spoke the words of “you have a sister and im sure shed love to meet you”. My eyes lit up like shining Christmas lights, but at the same time so many thoughts gabbled, and ran through my mind. That Thursday it was cold and snowy but we had planned on a meeting with my brother and I certainly was not going to let them cancel it. My mind juggled that in approximately 10 minutes, for the very first special time I was going to meet my brother. At last we had finally arrived. I pounced out of the car and ran as fast as I could to the red jeep I saw. He slowly opened the door as I saw broken glass and blood around his car. He cried for help. My mother ran to him and called 911. As everyone was rushing all I could do was sit there and scream, for I didn’t know weather or not I would see my brother for at least 10 seconds more.

It was at about 9 o’clock the next morning when my brother had passed. My heart was broken but yet I knew he was in a very good place. If I were to know that the chances had come and gone many years before my brothers death I would have grasped them tightly in my hands and never let go. For that it was the very first time I had met my brother and understood what waiting really meant.

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